


Bite Me

by notnicorette



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Affectionate Insults?, F/M, I'm sorry I can't help it, Insults, Okay Maybe a Little Shame, Season/Series 01, Shameless Smut, okay there might be a little plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-04 14:44:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12170973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notnicorette/pseuds/notnicorette
Summary: 'Bite me' is a common insult, right? People say it all the time.Except...Clarke ends up screaming it at Bellamy...And, for once...he does take one of her orders.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started this ages ago for a friend's birthday (Happy 6 month belated birthday Heater! lmao) and just now found the nerve to post it.
> 
> For the record, the first chapter is very tame (and short), but I did want a LITTLE BIT of a natural progression/set-up, so each chapter will be more explicit as the 'insults' progress.
> 
> FYI, it's set in the Season 1 'we kind of hate each other but not really' era where it's just the delinquents at the Dropship and then veers from canon.
> 
> So...here's my first smut fic. Don't be too harsh on me. Where's the 'see no evil' emoji when I need it?? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Clarke pressed her finger into his chest. “We cannot just pass out rifles willy-nilly, Bellamy! My God, just imagine if Murphy’d had one!”

“We need them for _protection_ , Clarke! What if I wouldn’t have had one when that boar charged at you yesterday? Where would you be right now?” he shouted right back.

She scoffed, because he had a point. “Bite me, Bellamy,” she hissed, turning away from the group and walking behind the dropship, so she could calm herself in private.

She wasn’t aware he’d followed her until she felt his hand on her arm, swinging her around. She found herself face-to-face with him, only inches apart as they stared at each other, the atmosphere between them charged, as it often was.

“Say that again, Clarke, and I will,” he muttered, his voice low and dangerous.

Yeah, right.

She tilted her chin up, defiant and taunting him. “ _Bite. Me._ ” 

The hand on her arm slid down to her wrist, lifting her arm up.

He held her gaze, his expression determined as the air between them crackled.

He finally dropped her gaze…because he lowered his head to her forearm.

Pushing her sleeve up further, he unceremoniously sank his teeth none-too-gently into the fleshy part of her forearm just below her elbow.

Clarke’s mouth opened in surprise, ready to cry out in pain or berate him or…something. She hadn’t thought he’d _actually_ do it. What kind of a person goes around…

 _‘Oh,’_ she thought, her mouth snapping shut as he replaced his teeth with his lips, pulling the tender skin into his mouth.

Her shock morphed into…something else…as his tongue laved the spot while he continued applying suction.

Heat shot straight to her core and she had to actively force herself not to let out a strangled moan.

He released her arm slowly, almost reluctantly, his eyes meeting hers as he straightened.

His eyes were dark, and his expression was a tumultuous one that looked possessive, hungry, and slightly shocked.

Clarke watched as more and more disbelief registered on his face as he slowly stepped away from her.

“I…” he shook his head, as if to clear it, suddenly looking embarrassed. “Sorry. I don’t know what…”

Without finishing his sentence, he turned on his heel, quickly marching away from her.

Clarke watched him go, leaning back against the dropship as she stared after him long after he’d disappeared from view.

Eventually, she stared down at the darkening spot on her arm, wondering what on Earth had just happened…and why she kind of wanted it to happen again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit longer...little bit smuttier. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

It was almost a week later, and Clarke had finally convinced herself to stop remembering Bellamy’s mouth on her arm, his tongue…okay, she’d _almost_ convinced herself to stop remembering.

It was easier to go back to hating him when he was currently in her face, trying to get her to relent while a decent portion of the camp watched.

“We _need_ food, Clarke. We can’t just sit around, hoping that what we have will last long enough. What if our stockpile isn’t salted correctly and goes bad? What if it gets infested by rats or bugs?”

She stepped even closer to him. “We _can’t_ send people out there! We have no idea _how many_ Grounders there are or _where_ they are or _when or if_ they’re going to kill us. I am _not_ sending people out there to die when we have at least a week’s worth of deer meat stored!”

“You don’t have to _send_ anyone. I already have half a dozen people willing to go with me, and we’ll be armed and on guard.”

“Oh, so now you’re going to leave the camp less secure too?!”

Bellamy sighed, his patience wearing thin. “You were the Earth Studies genius, right, Princess? You know how common rain is in this part of the world. What if we get a hard rain like the one we had a few weeks ago? All the animals went into hiding and all the water made it impossible for anyone to track anything. Even Spacewalker can’t find a deer when it’s pouring!” Bellamy finished, his voice turning sour at the mention of Finn.

Clarke sputtered. Truth be told, she’d seen the point in his rain argument, but then he’d gone and pissed her off again by bringing up Finn, especially in front of everyone.

“Bite me, Bellamy!” She shouted, again storming off to the relative privacy between the back of the dropship and the fence.

It was only a few seconds after she hurled the insult that she realized exactly what she’d done. A tiny part of her was afraid of what she’d invited, but the largest part, by far, was _excited_ about it.

She’d barely gotten out of sight of the rest of the camp when she felt his presence behind her.

This time, he didn’t touch her, instead waiting for her to turn around.

She did, her back just a few inches from the drop ship wall as she faced him.

They stood there, mere inches from each other as they participated in a stare-off, both of their eyes blazing as they challenged each other.

Clarke waited, but Bellamy seemed to be growing a little uncertain.

“Clarke…” he began, and it almost sounded like he was giving her an out.   

“Was I unclear?” she asked, trying to stop her voice from shaking and mostly succeeding. “I said _bite me_.”

He stepped forward, his eyes questioning.

She tilted her head minutely to the side, baring more of her neck.

Without further ado, he moved even closer, his hands finding her hips as his mouth found her neck. He nibbled a path up the column of her neck, to just under her earlobe, where he bit harder, again following the pressure of his teeth with gentle licks from his tongue.

When he sucked the tender area into his mouth, his fingers tightened on her hips, pulling her closer.

Clarke was fairly sure her eyes rolled back in her head as the combination of pleasure with a slight edge of pain made her entire body tingle.

She wasn’t sure if she stepped backward, looking for something to hold her up, if Bellamy pushed her backward, or if it was some combination of the two, but she ended up with her back against the side of the dropship, sandwiched between the cool metal wall and the very warm body currently doing wickedly wonderful things to her.

Without even realizing it, her hand had found its way into his hair as she tilted her head further back, giving him even more access. 

He released her skin, leaving what she was sure would be an impressive hickey, again moving down the sensitive column of her throat, alternating between gentle nibbles and what felt like open mouthed kisses.

Her hips instinctively moved forward, searching for his.

_‘More. I want more,’_ she thought, her hand tightening in his hair. “ _Again_ ,” is what she managed to say, her voice sounding foreign, even to her own ears.

She felt him smirk against her skin, although he quickly got to work, again using his teeth, then his mouth on another part of her neck.

She involuntarily made a sound somewhere between a whimper and a moan, the hand she had in his hair holding him tightly against her.

The hands he had on her hips abruptly pulled her lower body flush against his.

She groaned, louder this time, involuntarily moving her hips against his as she sought friction.

Suddenly, he froze, his breathing shallow as he stilled against her.

Just as quickly as it had started, it was over, with Bellamy brusquely releasing her and striding away without even looking back.

_“Pompous, arrogant, son of a bitch,”_ she hissed, slamming her head back into the side of the dropship as she tried to will her body to calm down.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally getting to the good stuff. :P

Finn cornered her in the med bay one afternoon, his eyes a little wild with excitement and secrecy. “I need you to meet me down by the creek tonight.”

She eyed him warily, her hands busy winding lengths of fairly clean strips of cloth into bandage rolls. “Why?”

“I got us a meeting with the Grounders,” he said excitedly.

Clarke’s eyebrows rose. “You did _what_?”

He nodded. “I met one of them when I was out tracking a turkey earlier.”

Clarke slammed the roll of cloth down on the table. “You _know_ you’re not supposed to go out without a gun and a partner, Finn!”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, according to Bellamy, who’s proclaimed himself king of all weapons and warfare. He _wants_ to fight everyone, Clarke. We’re only making the situation worse by holding guns on everyone we come across. This guy was nice, especially when he saw I didn’t want to hurt him. He said his leader wants peace. She wants to meet the leader of our camp to work out a deal so no one else has to get hurt. You need to meet with her, Clarke.”

Clarke studied his face, contemplating. While she didn’t quite buy into his ‘peaceful Grounders’ theory, she wouldn’t mind meeting with their leader to try to work something out. “Okay, we’ll tell Bellamy and the rest of the guard so they can…”

“No!” Finn immediately interrupted.

“No?”

“We can’t tell Blake. We can’t tell anyone, or it will turn into a shootout. You and I have to go and work everything out, then we’ll come back and give everyone the good news.”

“Finn…” Clarke began, not at all sure about his idea.

“Just after dark. Meet me at that big boulder and we’ll walk down together, okay? And remember…not a word to anyone,” Finn said, excitedly squeezing her arm before he turned and walked out the door.

Clarke stood there, mouth slightly agape as she stared in the direction he’d disappeared.

“Please don’t tell me you’re even considering that harebrained idea,” Bellamy’s voice sounded somewhere between incredulous and angry.

Clarke’s mouth snapped shut as she turned abruptly, banging her hip into the counter. “Dammit! Where did you come from?” she asked angrily, rubbing her leg.

Bellamy raised an eyebrow. “I was over there, cleaning the guns,” he said, pointing behind one of the curtains they’d used to partition spaces off. “After all, I am the ‘king of all weapons and warfare,’” he finished sarcastically, a glint of anger in his eyes.

Clarke scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Don’t be silly, he’s just…” she waved her hand.

“An idiot who’s going to get us all killed, starting with you?”

Clarke frowned. “He’s not an idiot, he just has different ways of doing things.”

Bellamy took a step closer to her, his anger more evident. “You aren’t going out there, Clarke.”

She tilted her chin up, meeting his eyes defiantly. Honestly, she wasn’t too sold on the idea either, but the idea of Bellamy telling her she wasn’t allowed to go made it a lot more appealing. “Yes, I am.”

He took another step towards her, only a few feet separating them now. “ _No_ , you’re not.”

“ _I_ want to avoid a war, if at all possible,” she said, almost baiting him, and she almost immediately regretted it, because she _knew_ he didn’t really want to fight a war either…not unless they had to.

Bellamy’s jaw clenched. “ _I_ don’t want a war either, Princess. But I’m smart enough to know that it’s not always avoidable and that people that wear bone armor and war paint and have already killed a dozen of our people probably aren’t all that interested in being friendly neighbors! I’m not walking into a trap unarmed and neither are you!”

Clarke knew he was right, but lately, she found herself unable to back down from a fight with him. Hell, she’d _always_ found it hard to back down from a fight with him, but she’d found it especially difficult after their last couple…encounters. “So we’re just supposed to shoot them all on sight? That sounds like a diplomatic way to do things, Bellamy.”

“Yeah, cause they were real diplomatic when they speared Jasper through the chest!” he said angrily, hands on his hips.

“I’m not just going to sit in here and wait for them to come attack us because they think we want to kill them! You can sit in here and polish your guns all you want, hoping you’ll get the chance to use them, but I’m going to go _do_ something to try to fix it!” Clarke practically screamed it at him, and she knew…she _knew_ she was being unfair…but she couldn’t stop herself.

Bellamy’s jaw locked even more, his mouth a little crooked as he was clearly biting on the inside of his lip. He stepped even closer, his arms boxing her in against the counter. “What’s your favorite phrase again, Princess?” He loomed over her, his eyes flashing dangerously. “Oh, yeah. _Bite me_.”

Clarke’s breath caught, her eyes darting back and forth from his eyes to his mouth, which was just inches away from hers. With a sudden burst of courage, she leaned forward, pressing her lips to his for a moment before she pulled his bottom lip between her teeth, biting on it none too gently as she pulled it toward her. She then ran her tongue across it.

Bellamy, who’d stood stock still for the rest of it, practically growled the moment her tongue touched him, his arms wrapping around her as his mouth crashed down onto hers.

They kissed just like they fought, all vying for power and reveling in the heat they generated between them. His tongue invaded her mouth, and _God_ , she loved the feeling of his weight against her, his tongue licking into her mouth, this aura of possessiveness he was giving off as he turned her into complete goo.

She scratched her nails lightly over his neck, curling her tongue against his as they settled into a rhythm that had her practically drowning in want, the wetness pooling between her legs clear proof of it.

Bellamy pulled away, breathing harshly, and Clarke chased his lips a little, starting to make a discontented noise before she felt him kissing her jaw, then down her neck, alternating between gentle nibbles, harsher bites, opened mouthed kisses, and… _oh_ …

He licked the hollow of her throat, and Clarke let out a moan, her hands finding the back of his head to hold him against her.

He nibbled his way down, following the neckline of her Henley, but frustratingly not moving beneath it.

Clarke irrationally wished she’d left all the buttons undone instead of just two.

“ _Bellamy,”_ she begged.

He smirked against her skin, his hands moving to undo the rest of the buttons, exposing the swells of her breasts.

His eyes roamed over them greedily, darkening with desire.

She was pretty sure he was about to say something, but she didn’t really care, her hands pulling him toward her.

He went without complaint, his mouth eagerly exploring the skin he’d just uncovered, laving and nibbling until Clarke thought she’d go insane.

“Bell…”

She wasn’t even sure what she was asking for, but he seemed to understand, because he moved down, closer to her nipple, which was still hidden inside her bra, and immediately started sucking a dark bruise onto her breast.

Had Clarke been more cognizant, she would have reminded him that she was the one that was supposed to be doing the biting this time.

As it was, Clarke could only throw her head back, a throaty moan escaping her mouth as the bite of his teeth and the suction of his mouth made heat shoot straight to her cunt, making it clench around nothing.

His hands were slowly pushing the bottom of her shirt up, his thumbs rubbing circles over the skin he exposed on her sides as he went.

Clarke wrapped one leg around him, trying to get her hips as close to his as she could, the throbbing between her legs demanding contact.

She moved against him, and they both groaned when his cock, which was impressively hard, even confined in his pants, bumped against her clit.

Bellamy’s hands tightened on her waist, his thumbs sliding under the waistband of her pants as he used his nose to edge one cup of her bra to the side, his tongue finally… _finally_ sliding over her nipple.

Clarke gripped him even harder as pleasure shot through her, her body demanding that they get even closer.

His hands moved back up to her waist, lifting her up onto the counter.

Her legs immediately wrapped around his waist and her hips canted up against his, immensely grateful for this new angle, which was just about perfect for both of them, allowing them to grind their pelvises against each other in a rhythm that had Clarke’s back arching.

His lips moved, just closing over her nipple when they both froze, hearing Finn’s voice outside.

“Monty, do you know if Clarke’s still in the med bay? I need to ask her about something.”

They both pulled apart, staring a bit frantically at each other, barely breathing.

Monty’s reply was unintelligible, just the tone of his voice was recognizable as he responded in what Clarke assumed was an affirmative.

“Bellamy…” she whispered.

It wasn’t until the heavy clomp of footsteps could be heard coming up the dropship ramp that they sprang into action, Bellamy quickly setting Clarke on her feet as his fingers, which she noticed were none-too-steady, redid the first button on her Henley.

“Go,” she whispered, batting his hands away and nodding behind the sheet where he’d been working before. “Go!”

He frowned, but did as she asked, his gate a little awkward as he dealt with what had felt like an impressive hard-on.

Clarke turned away from the door, quickly glancing down as she tried to force the buttons through the holes with trembling fingers. She also noticed that a bruise was already forming on her breast, which simultaneously made her hurry, to cover it, and made her want to say ‘ _Fuck it_ ’ and follow Bellamy back behind the sheet to finish what they’d started.

Instead, she took a deep breath, working on the last button necessary for decency just as she heard Finn move the heavy canvas cloth that served as a doorway to the dropship.

“Clarke?”

“Yeah?” she asked, voice only a little unsteady.

“Did you ever get that med kit ready for the hunting party? Miller and his team are ready to go out and I know you didn’t want them leaving without it.”

“Yeah, it’s right over here,” she said, turning around and pulling it from beside the counter, handing it to Finn.

He was looking at her a little oddly. “You okay? You look a little…flushed.”

Clarke swallowed. “I’m fine. Please remind Miller that the moonshine in there is for antiseptic purposes only,” she said, doing her best schoolteacher impersonation.

Finn nodded. “Got it,” he said, turning to walk out the door. “We’re still on for tonight, right?”

Clarke nodded absently, forcing a semblance of a smile to her face when he looked a little unconvinced.

Finn finally turned and left, and Clarke slumped back against the counter, her hands covering her eyes.

She heard Bellamy reemerge from the other room, his footsteps walking through the med bay and toward the door. She slowly uncovered her eyes, almost afraid to look at him after they’d just been mauling each other not more than two minutes ago.

Bellamy looked almost as awkward as she felt. “I…uh…” he gestured out the door. “I need to make sure Miller knows about the landslide in the eastern valley. We had to go all the way around last time my group went out.”

Clarke nodded.

Bellamy looked at her uncertainly for a moment, almost as if he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure what. Instead, he turned, again heading for the door.

“Bellamy.”

He paused, turning his head to look at her.

“Tonight…get Miller, Harper…a few others you know you can trust not to be trigger happy. Back me up? Just in case?”

A slight smile came to his face as he stared at her for a long moment, finally nodding.

She nodded back, and then he disappeared outside.

Clarke again covered her eyes, wondering how on Earth she’d gone from fighting with someone she’d thought she loved, to fighting with someone she’d thought she hated, to making out with someone she’d thought she hated, to trusting her unlikely ally more than the likely one.

Clarke sighed, guessing she’d phrased it correctly after all. This was life _on Earth_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ........I didn't say I wasn't still a tease. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: *waves goodbye to what little was left of my AO3 innocence and proceeds to go hide*

The peace talks with the Grounders had gone up in flames, and Clarke had been tremendously glad she’d listened to her instincts and had Bellamy protecting her.

Finn was still pissed at her over it, but honestly, the guards had saved his life too from what had, in fact, been a trap, so Clarke really wasn’t sure where he thought he had a leg to stand on.

One would have thought that Clarke and Bellamy being on the same side, for once, would have improved their relationship.

And maybe it did…for a short while. But now, it was barely a week later, and Clarke again found herself in a shouting match with Bellamy.

They were just outside the dropship, where Clarke had caught him getting a day pack ready, rifle already slung across his back.

After a quick round of questioning, and some reluctant answering, she’d learned that he planned to go on a solo scouting mission, trying to learn where the Grounders were camped and how many of them there were.

“You are _not_ going into _actual_ _enemy territory_ , Bellamy!”

“I don’t take orders from you, Princess,” he practically sneered.

She grabbed his arm. “You do if that’s what’s required to keep you alive, you idiot!”

He tried to pull his arm out of her hand, but she had a firmer grip than he’d thought.

Clarke glanced around, noticing that they were drawing stares from the rest of the camp. “Come on,” she said, using her grip on his arm to practically drag him into the dropship.

When they got inside, they were met with more questioning looks, since Monroe was in the med bay after eating some poisonous plants and Octavia was currently watching over her, cleaning and reorganizing the surgical tools while she made sure her condition didn’t get any worse.

Clarke huffed in frustration, turning to Bellamy, as if to ask, ‘ _What now?’_

He apparently understood, because his eyes subtly shifted upward, looking at the ceiling.

Clarke nodded, leading the way to the ladder that led to the second floor. She climbed up, glancing around to make sure they were alone; which, thankfully, they were.

She stood a few feet from the hatch, hands on her hips as she waited for Bellamy to climb up after her.

He did, shutting the hatch behind him and then standing up to his full height to glare right back at her. “We need to know what we’re up against, Clarke,” he said forcefully.

Yeah, she knew. “Take Miller with you,” she said instead.

He shook his head. “Too dangerous.”

She practically stomped her foot, her hands balled into fists as she turned away from him in exasperation. “So, in other words, you know it’s probably a suicide mission and you don’t want to get Miller killed, but you’re fine with sacrificing yourself?!”

When he didn’t answer, she turned back around, finding him looking a little sheepish.

“You’re not going,” she said adamantly.

“I was leaving Miller here so you guys would be protected! He’s the best guard I have!”

“So take him with you! Let him protect you!”

“I can’t!” he shouted.

“Because you know it’s going to get you killed!” she shouted right back.

“He needs to stay here, _in case_ something would happen to me. Someone needs to protect you, and Octavia, and the rest of the camp,” he stuttered over his words a little, clearly trying to make it sound like he didn’t care about her specifically.

“If he’s such a good guard, let _him_ go scout the Grounders’ camp!” she practically screamed at him, and she knew, deep down, that she was afraid of losing Bellamy. Honestly, she wasn’t sure why she was having such a strong reaction to the thought of someone she’d hated until a few weeks ago being in danger. It was probably just because she needed his help to keep what was left of the 100 alive.

Or at least that’s what she’d keep telling herself.

“I can’t ask one of my men to do something I’m not willing to do,” he said, and he said it so calmly, so stoically, and with so much maturity that Clarke simultaneously was impressed by him and wanted to smack him.

“You’re not going,” she repeated stubbornly.

“We need intel,” he retorted, just as stubbornly.

“I won’t let you.”

He moved closer to her, again staring down at her with eyes that were so intense, she almost got lost in them. “And I told you, I don’t take orders from you.”

“I’ll…” she scrambled, trying to think of something. “I’ll have the guards lock you up.”

Bellamy chuckled, stepping into her personal space. “Really? My guards? You think Miller and Harper and Monroe are going to listen to _you_ and lock _me_ up?”

Clarke huffed in frustration, because yeah, that was never going to happen. She was feeling so many things right now: fear, anxiety, desperation, anger. Yeah, they were fighting, like they always did, but she was also actively trying to keep her tears at bay, and he was staring at her, body tense, eyes glued to hers like he was just waiting for a word from her.

Clarke felt a little off balance, more than a little desperate to be close to him and not sure how to get what she wanted, but knowing how they’d started the last few times. She tilted her chin up, glaring at him as best she could. “Bite…”

He quickly cut her off, his thumb catching her lower lip as he shook his head.

Clarke had a terrifying moment as she thought he didn’t want what she wanted, but she only had to wait a minute before he said huskily, “You can do better than that.”

Her eyes searched his questioningly, not quite sure what he was getting at.

The hand that wasn’t on her face moved between them, the backs of his fingers brushing gently against her mound.

Clarke gasped, but didn’t move away, the feeling of his hand directly over her pants a little shocking, but certainly nothing she was against.

When she didn’t move away, but continued staring brazenly at him, her eyes darkening with lust, he put his hand on her more firmly, cupping her with his palm as his fingers played a little between her legs, her damp heat obvious, even through her pants.

Clarke was about to close her eyes, already almost lost in the pleasure of it, until he again tugged on her lower lip with his thumb.

Her eyes flew open, meeting his, which were so dark they looked black.

She wasn’t sure if this was part of the draw for him, hearing the prim and proper Princess say something filthy, or if this was his way of getting her permission…making her start things, but he obviously wanted something from her.

“Come on, Princess. Think real hard,” he said roughly, his voice so low it made her clit throb. It didn’t help that he pressed his fingers harder against her as he said it.

And suddenly, she knew. She knew what he wanted her to say, given where his hand had zeroed in on, and _thank God_ , it was exactly what she wanted too.

She nipped at his thumb, which was still pressed against her lower lip, her eyes practically blazing as they kept contact with his. “Eat me,” she said, and although it was supposed to be an insult, it came out sounding more like a plea.

He let out something that sounded a bit like a growl, and Clarke quickly decided it was her favorite sound in the entire world, but she only had a moment to think about that, because his lips were quickly pressing against hers, his tongue licking immediately at the seam of her lips.

She opened for him, just as eager to feel his tongue against hers as he apparently was.

He only spent a minute or two kissing her thoroughly, filthily, really, before his lips left hers and moved quickly but purposefully down her body, stopping for just a second to bite at each nipple through her shirt before he kept kissing down her belly, moving her shirt up so he could make contact with her bare skin.

Clarke trembled at the first contact of his lips on her bare stomach, not sure how she was going to remain standing after he actually got her pants off if she was having this much trouble already.

Bellamy kissed down her stomach, stopping when he got to the button on her pants. He stopped, sitting back on his haunches as his hands moved from her hips to the closure on her pants, and he looked up at her, as if asking for permission.

Biting her lip, she nodded.

He immediately undid the button, then slid down the zipper, tugging her pants and underwear down in one fell swoop, quickly taking them, and her boots, off.

His fingers slid through her wetness, exploring a little, first rubbing along her lips, then lightly circling her clit, before finally moving back, just teasing the entrance of her cunt.

He leaned forward, replacing his fingers with his tongue and taking his first taste of her.

Clarke was pretty sure she heard _‘Fuck’_ come out of his mouth, but she couldn’t swear by it, because her mind had gone a little hazy the moment his tongue touched her.

He licked at her, his tongue pressing against her clit on each pass, and Clarke’s legs started trembling.

Bellamy made some sort of frustrated noise, as if he wasn’t getting what he wanted, and he stood abruptly, pressing his lips to Clarke’s as he walked her backwards, until they got to one of the makeshift cots.

He pressed her down onto the bed, then kneeled in front of her. “Lay back,” he commanded, waiting until she did as he asked before he spread her knees.

Clarke let him pull her legs up onto his shoulders, then watched as he pulled her ass forward, so she was almost hanging off the edge of the bed. Honestly, it was a little terrifying, being this exposed to someone, especially since she wasn’t even sure how they felt about each other. Forget whether or not they had romantic feelings for each other…she wasn’t sure if they even _liked_ each other most days.

But he was currently staring down at her cunt like he wanted to _devour_ her, so Clarke figured she could deal with it.

He murmured something that sounded like “so fucking pretty” right before he dove in, immediately licking a long line up her slit, ending at her clit and paying special attention to it.

Clarke couldn’t help the moan that escaped her, but she immediately covered her mouth with her hand to try to stop any more.

Bellamy played with her clit for a while, just nudging it with the tip of his tongue in a pattern that was deliciously sinful, but not enough to send her over the edge.

Clarke pressed her heels into his back a little, trying to tell him that she needed more without opening her mouth, because she was a little afraid of what she’d say if she did.

He apparently got the message, because he glanced up at her, maintaining eye contact with her as he moved down, his tongue circling her opening.

Clarke bit her lower lip, the pleasure…the wanting almost too much…and then, his eyes still locked on hers, he thrust his tongue into her.

Clarke’s head moved back of its own accord, her body bowing off the bed at the intense pleasure that shot through her. “Bellamy!” she cried, her hands tangling in his hair to hold him against her.

She wanted to look at him, she really did, because the sight of his dark curls between her legs was a turn-on all on its own, but he was licking against her inner walls as he fucked her with his tongue, and she couldn’t manage to keep her eyes open, let alone see straight.

Suddenly, with one last thrust, he withdrew, his tongue again moving up to her clit, laving it with slow, sensuous licks as he brought his fingers up to tease at her entrance, just as his tongue had done a few moments before.

“Bellamy….Bellamy…” Clarke’s head thrashed a little, and she didn’t even realize she was repeating his name like some kind of mantra.

He moved a fraction of an inch, his breath hot on her clit as he looked up at her, asking, “You want my fingers, Princess?”

She nodded, her eyes a bit unfocused as she looked down at him.

Suddenly, as if he couldn’t help himself, he surged up, capturing her lips with his in a quick, demanding kiss.

Clarke chased after him a little, mostly because she could taste herself on his lips and it was an oddly hot experience, one she found she wanted more of.

He chuckled as he kneeled back down, but soon got back to it, his tongue teasing her clit as he slipped two fingers inside her.

Clarke let out a cry, her back again bowing up off the bed as his impossibly large, impossibly long fingers slid inside her, then started moving in and out of her in a steady rhythm, his fingers so big it almost felt like she was getting fucked, except his fingers were much more flexible than a cock, which she thanked the heavens for as he crooked them inside her, sliding them against her walls on each thrust until he found what he was looking for, a spot that made her head spin.

“ _Fuck…Bellamy_ …” she cried, her voice sounding tortured as the pleasure built to impossible heights inside her, almost painful in its intensity.

“I know, Princess. I know,” he murmured soothingly, his tongue licking at her gently.

“ _Bell…_ ”

“I got you, Clarke,” he promised, his fingers concentrating on that single spot inside her, the one that made her eyes roll back in her head. He continued licking her gently as his fingers pressed inside her, waiting until her body tensed impossibly tight, her shoulders coming up off the bed as she leaned toward him, so so close to something wonderful…and then he closed his lips around her clit, sucking it into his mouth as his fingers lodged themselves impossibly deep inside her, and Clarke felt a wave of pleasure, unlike anything she’d ever felt before, unfurl inside her, starting in her cunt, and her clit, and then spreading, so that not a single part of her body was unaffected. Everything went white for a moment, the all-consuming pleasure a little too much to handle, and by the time she opened her eyes again, her entire body was tingling, her fingers and toes almost feeling like they were asleep, it was so intense.

She looked down, and found Bellamy’s head still between her legs, his tongue still gently licking at her, sending sparks of electricity through her every few seconds. Honestly, she wasn’t sure if he was doing it for her, to draw out her pleasure, or if he still hadn’t had enough of her, because he still looked a little like he wanted to devour her.

She tugged him up, until he was leaning over her, and he hesitated a little, as if giving her time to realize that his face was covered in her, but she pulled him down, her tongue immediately licking into his mouth. And it was filthy, and sloppy, and honestly, the hottest kiss Clarke had ever had.

She knew it had to be a psychological turn-on, and she really wasn’t ready to delve too deeply into why, but all she knew at the moment was that Bellamy had just had his tongue buried deep inside her cunt, and every time she licked into his mouth, every time she touched her tongue to his, the taste was a physical reminder of it, and it sent shock waves of pleasure through her still trembling body.

He finally pulled back to look at her, his eyes still dark as sin.

She smiled up at him slyly as she slid her hand down his chest, then his stomach. “Your turn,” she whispered.

His hand grabbed hers, stopping its descent.

She waited, looking up at him, but he didn’t move, hand trapping hers and his eyes staring down at her, growing warier by the minute.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

He shook his head a little, as if to clear it. “Nothing,” he said, standing up abruptly.

Clarke looked up at him questioningly, her body immediately missing the weight of his. “Bellamy…” she began uncertainly.

“I should get back out there. Miller’s working on that section of fence over by the gate and he can use all the hands he can get,” he said, as if everything were business as usual, his eyes refusing to look at her.

Clarke sat up, immediately pulling her shirt down to cover as much of herself as possible, suddenly feeling very naked and very vulnerable.

She could either let him go without questioning his sudden about-face, start a fight with him over it, or ask him why he was running. Since he’d just spent the last 15 minutes doing everything in his power to give her the best orgasm of her life, she decided to go with a softer approach.

She walked over, stepping into his personal space. “Did I…do something wrong?” she asked, her voice a little unsteady at the thought that she’d done something so repulsive, he’d rather run away than let her get him off.

His eyes finally landed on her. “No! God, no!” He sighed, his chest seeming to deflate as his hands went to his hips. “Clarke, you were…perfect,” he finished softly, almost reverently, just before he looked away from her again, a slight flush making its way up his neck.

She tentatively reached a hand out, pressing it to his stomach. “Then what’s wrong?”

He stepped backwards, breaking the contact. “Nothing,” he insisted. “I just have a lot to do. We don’t have time for…that…right now,” he said, his face still a little red.

Clarke raised an eyebrow, because she was fairly sure she could get him off in about two minutes flat if she set her mind to it, and meanwhile, he’d spent at _least_ a quarter of an hour on her.

Apparently, they had time for her orgasms but not his?

Clarke also didn’t understand how a man who’d thrown her legs over his shoulders and promptly fucked her with his tongue was now blushing at the thought of her sticking her hand down his pants. Something wasn’t adding up.

“Bellamy…”

“I don’t want to open the hatch until you’re dressed,” he said, interrupting her.

Clarke nodded, collecting her discarded clothing from the floor, slowly stepping into her underwear as Bellamy turned his back, because apparently he thought she needed privacy now, as though he didn’t have his face buried in her cunt five minutes ago.

Clarke decided to table her questions for now, because she could see his fingers drumming anxiously against his holster, and she remembered how they’d ended up here in the first place: that stupid suicide mission he seemed determined to go on.

“There’s another way to get the intel we need,” she told him quietly.

He turned his head to look at her. “How?”

“I know you don’t want to hear it…” Clarke said warily, pulling up her pants. “But I’m fairly sure Lincoln is in love with your sister.”

Bellamy scoffed, an immediate anger coming to his face.

Clarke held up a hand. “I know how you feel about it, but from everything I’ve seen, he’s a good guy. He’s risked his life for Octavia, and I bet he could be persuaded to…help us.”

“You think he’d turn on his own people?” Bellamy asked incredulously.

“I think love is a powerful thing,” Clarke answered, well aware that her words had some sort of hidden meaning in this odd dance they were doing. “And I think he’d do just about anything to make sure Octavia isn’t in a camp that’s unprepared to defend itself.”

Bellamy chewed on his lower lip, contemplating before he finally nodded.

Clarke sighed with relief, finally zipping and buttoning her pants, because yes, she’d been staying undressed on purpose, knowing Bellamy wouldn’t open the door until she was decent.

She needed time to make him see reason, and she’d gotten it.

He gave her a once over, noticing that she had everything on except her boots. He lifted the hatch. “Miller…” he reminded her, gesturing somewhere in the vicinity of the broken fence.

She nodded.

He gave her a curt nod before he started climbing down the ladder, his messy curls soon disappearing from her line of sight.

Curls that were especially messy because she’d had her fingers anchored in them, Clarke reminded herself, sinking down on the edge of the bed to pull her boots on.

She got them laced before she realized her body was still trembling a little, not fully recovered from Bellamy’s attention a few minutes ago.

She needed to figure out why Bellamy seemed averse to letting her getting him off.

She needed to figure out why she seemed to crave his touch, more and more, and she was pretty damn sure their latest romp wouldn’t exactly help in that department.

She needed to figure out which plant exactly Monroe was allergic to and if she had an individual allergy or if it was poisonous to all humans.     

Clarke laughed a little, flopping back on the bed, her arm coming up to cover her eyes as she gave herself a moment to enjoy the post-orgasm relaxation she deserved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: WELP. Finally earned that E rating, eh?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean...what's left to say? 
> 
> Here. Have some smut. Hahaha

 

Clarke climbed the ladder to the second floor of the dropship, looking for Raven. She was more than a little surprised when she got her first glimpse of the floor above her and found Bellamy and Raven bent over the table, staring at something while talking in low voices.

Clarke climbed the rest of the way up the ladder, clearing her throat to get their attention when she landed on the second floor.

They both turned around abruptly, their faces almost guilty.

“What’s going on?” Clarke asked somewhat warily.

“Nothing,” Bellamy answered quickly, his eyes not quite meeting hers.

Raven rolled her eyes. “We’re fixing a shortwave radio Bellamy found in a bunker.”

Clarke frowned, wandering over to look at the colorful wires and tiny pieces of unrecognizable equipment spread out all over the table, then turned to look up at Bellamy, who was standing just a few inches to her left. “Okay…why did you not want to tell me?”

Bellamy sighed, his eyes flicking to hers before again looking away, seemingly very interested in a piece of coiled blue wire on the table in front of him.

Clarke wasn’t really surprised…he’d been doing his best to avoid her since he’d gone down on her over a week ago, which she still didn’t understand.

She’d had an amazing time, he’d claimed he’d enjoyed himself, and she was the one who’d been half naked, spread open in front of him like some sort of indecent offering, so she wasn’t sure why he was the one who seemed almost embarrassed, especially when she’d seen him emerge from his tent one morning a few months ago with two girls trailing after him, all three of them grinning like Cheshire cats and completely unconcerned who saw them.

Clarke had noticed that his ‘fuck everything that moves’ pattern seemed to have disappeared after their first week or so on Earth, but a man didn’t go from having unapologetic threesomes with virtual strangers to being embarrassed about a hand job in the space of a few months, _especially_ not after how eager he’d been _during_ their last encounter.

Something had changed the moment she’d suggested returning the favor, and Clarke was determined to figure out why.

Were it anyone else, she’d almost think they were a virgin or were embarrassed about something like being smaller than average in that department, but again…Clarke had received a pretty clear view of just how experienced Bellamy was during their first few days on Earth, and if Roma’s not-so-quietly whispered tales were anything to go by, Bellamy was _more-than-adequate_ in that area, so she had no idea what was going on.

Either Bellamy had a specific problem with sexual activities with _her_ , or something else entirely was going on.

Given that their chemistry was still as intense as usual, if not more so, and given that her body kept humming with an insatiable desire anytime she got within 10 feet of him now that she knew exactly how good they were together, Clarke became even more determined to figure out why he was being weird, _especially_ when she could see how affected he was by her, even when he was trying to hide it.

Like right now, when his body was strung so tautly she could’ve bounced a quarter off him.

Clarke turned to Raven, realizing she’d have to get any answers directly from her. “Why didn’t you guys want to tell me? Why wouldn’t I be happy about a radio?”

Raven huffed a little. “Because we have to take apart one of the walkies for parts to fix it.”

Clarke frowned at the brunette. They only had half a dozen working walkie-talkies and they had proven invaluable to the group. Taking one apart would leave them with only five, which meant they would either have to let fewer groups go out at once, or else they’d have to let someone leave without a way to communicate. “Is that a good idea?”

“Told you she wouldn’t like it,” Bellamy muttered.

Clarke ignored him, keeping her gaze on Raven. “I’m asking: is that a good idea?”

Raven shrugged, looking a little uncertain. “There’s no guarantee it will work.”

Clarke tilted her head. “But you think it will.”

Raven glanced at the parts spread out in front of her. “Seventy-five percent chance.”

“Okay. And what can we use it for?”

Raven sighed a little, glancing at Bellamy. “That’s the other problem. I’m not sure. We may be able to use it to communicate with anyone else who has one…maybe the people in Mount Weather or a more friendly tribe that would be willing to help us? And…best case scenario…we could use it to contact the Ark. But I can’t really know for sure until I do it. I have no idea what the range on this thing will be, especially after it’s modified with used parts.”

Clarke turned to Bellamy. “You want to do it,” she asked, and it was part question, but mostly a statement.

He glanced at her, nodding.

Clarke turned back to Raven. “And you?”

Raven nodded. “It’s a risk, yeah, but I think we should take it. If it doesn’t work, I can always take it back apart and try to fix the walkie, but no guarantees there either.”

Clarke bit her lip, staring at the odd-looking box on the table in front of her. “Can I talk to Bellamy for a minute?”

Raven sighed, then nodded, making her way over to the hatch and climbing down, pulling the door shut behind her.

Bellamy stepped away the minute the hatch closed, sighing as he ran a hand through his hair. “I know it’s a risk, Clarke, but we need…” He paused when he felt her hand touch his arm.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked quietly.

He glanced down at her hand, then his eyes made their way up to her face. “Nothing’s wrong with me. I know you don’t like risk, but…”

She tsk’d, pulling on his arm until he turned to face her. “I’m not talking about the radio. What’s wrong with you? Why are you being weird?”

He wouldn’t quite meet her gaze. “I’m not.”

“You _are_ ,” she insisted. “Ever since we…hooked up…you’ve been acting strange. You won’t even look me in the eye. Do you…regret it?”

His eyes finally met hers. “ _No,_ ” he said vehemently.

“You practically ran out of the room when I suggested returning the favor.”

His eyes ghosted over her lips before they settled on a point somewhere over her shoulder, again clearly avoiding her.

Clarke stepped closer, her hand resting lightly against his stomach as she leaned up to brush her lips against his.

He stopped breathing, his eyes closing almost as if he were in pain.

Clarke moved, kissing and nibbling along his jawline as her hand moved down, palming what was quickly becoming an impressive erection through his pants. “You don’t like the thought of my hands on you?” she asked, taking his earlobe between her teeth before she moved down, licking the sensitive spot below his ear. “My mouth on you?”

Bellamy let out a noise that sounded choked, his hands coming up to grip her upper arms, pulling her away from him a bit. “Clarke, stop.”

She froze, disappointment and embarrassment and about twelve other emotions she couldn’t even name flitting across her face. She winced. “Jesus, I’m sorry. Let me go,” she said, tugging against his hold, fairly mortified. “I thought…I thought you wanted…”

Bellamy looked more embarrassed than she felt. “You don’t have to do this, Clarke.”

She stopped struggling, freezing at his words, most of her embarrassment replaced by confusion. “What are you talking about?”

He let go of her, his jaw clenching in what almost looked like shame. “I know I kind of…pushed you into this. I already feel bad enough about it, but I kept telling myself that at least I made you feel good for a little while. I can’t…” he sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “Jesus, Clarke. You don’t owe me. You don’t have to…”

Clarke studied him, her brain working a million miles a minute, trying to process what was going on in front of her.

Suddenly, it all fell into place.

He may have claimed to hate the hierarchy on the Ark, but he was still letting it get to him here on Earth, where he apparently couldn’t help but think the only way the Ark Princess would want him is if she’d somehow been coerced into it.   

Clarke had some sort of knee-jerk reaction, wanting to kiss him until he believed her when she said that sometimes, she was the one who didn’t understand why he’d want her, but she quickly quelled it, because that wasn’t who they were to each other…that wasn’t what they were…at least not right now.

Instead, she hooked her fingers in his belt loops, hauling him against her as she looked up at him. “I’m not even sure if I like you most days,” she admitted frankly. “But you didn’t force me into this, Bellamy. I wanted you…I still want you. Do you want me?” she asked softly.

He still refused to look at her. “Clarke…”

“Bellamy, just tell me if I’m making an ass out of myself or not. Do. You. Want. Me?”

He shut his eyes, his voice so low it was barely audible. “ _Yes_.”

A thrill raced through her, both because she _knew_ _it_ and because _thank God._

“Do you know how I woke up this morning?” she asked, her hands running over his shirt, feeling the hard muscles beneath.

His eyes opened, meeting hers in confusion, obviously surprised by her question.

She leaned up, her teeth scraping the dimple on his chin. “I woke up with my hand down my pants,” she admitted, her voice husky as she turned her head, kissing the underside of his jaw. “I was having a dream about you going down on me again.”

All the breath seemed to leave his body at once, his hands coming up to hold her arms as if of their own accord.

Clarke slid her hands down to his pants, resting her fingers just inside the waistband. “Do you know what I dreamed about the night before?”

He shook his head, his eyes dark and full of a hunger that made her squirm with need.

“I dreamed about _this_ ,” she whispered, going up on her tiptoes and nudging his lips with hers…not a kiss, not really, just enough to drive them both crazy. “I kept thinking about getting on my knees in front of you…taking you in my mouth…driving you as crazy as you drove me.” She smirked a little against his lips. “Honestly, it’s a good thing I sleep alone in the med bay, or my roommates would…”

She didn’t get to finish her sentence, because his hands were around her back, pulling her closer, and his mouth was on hers, kissing her frantically.

She smiled against his lips…until his hands squeezed her ass, and then all she could do was give herself up to his kiss, moaning into his mouth as his tongue parted her lips, invading her mouth with a dominance she felt all the way to her toes. She quickly matched his aggression, determined that she was going to be the one to make him lose control this time.

Clarke pulled away, dropping to her knees in front of him, her eyes looking up at him.

His eyes went so dark and his face went so fucking possessive, Clarke had to clench her thighs together.

She undid his belt, then his zipper, tugging his pants down to his knees and leaving him in only a pair of boxer briefs.

Reaching a finger out, she gently traced the outline of his cock through his underwear, smiling when she heard him hiss above her.

She looked back up at him, her hands resting on his hips. “Say it,” she told him.

Through his desire, she saw a glimmer of confusion.

She leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the hard length of him through his underwear. “Say it,” she repeated.

He huffed a laugh, looking a little off-balance by the whole thing. “I’m not even mad at you.”

She smiled up at him wickedly. “I know.”

He smirked a little, although she caught a hint of hesitancy in his tone, as if he didn’t know if he should be doing this, when he finally said, “Suck my dick.”

Clarke barely let him finish the sentence before she slipped her hand down his underwear, grasping the hard length of him as she used her other hand to slide his underwear down, finally granting her unobstructed access to his cock…and yeah…Roma hadn’t been exaggerating. If anything, she may have undersold it.

Clarke stroked his length a few times, acquainting herself with the feel of him…and driving him a little bit crazy in the process. Finally, she leaned forward, swirling her tongue around the tip.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Bellamy said eloquently.

Clarke grinned, then closed her mouth over him, which prompted a new string of profanities to spill from his mouth.

She wasn’t exactly a professional…in fact, she’d never done this particular act before, but Bellamy didn’t seem to notice or care, if his ragged breathing and clenched fists were any indication. Clarke knew she wouldn’t be able to take his entire length, so she decided to try a few other things, remembering how amazing it had felt when he’d explored different parts of her.

She released him, turning her head to press sucking, open-mouth kisses slowly along his length, getting closer and closer to his body as she held him steady with her hand. When she reached his body, she pushed his cock up toward his stomach, licking the entire length slowly, firmly, until she again reached the tip, which she fluttered her tongue against.

“ _Jesus Fuck_ ,” he muttered, his hands sliding roughly into her hair.

Clarke smirked as she looked up at him, because he was so far gone, he couldn’t even form a coherent thought anymore, and that was exactly what she’d wanted.

She closed her mouth around him, one hand stroking the base of his cock, which she knew she wouldn’t be able to take, and her other hand moving to his balls, fondling them almost on instinct.

When his hands tightened in her curls, she knew she’d made a good decision.

She relaxed her jaw as much as she could, determined to take as much of him as possible, and started fucking him with her mouth, using her tongue on the head every time she withdrew.

She got almost lost in it, the taste of him, the feel of him on her tongue, his hands fisting unconsciously in her hair, pulling it in a way that made her want to take him deeper, her own thighs clenching together at the desire pooling between them.

After just a few minutes, his voice pulled her out of her trance.

“Clarke…I’m about to…” he couldn’t even finish the sentence, ending it on a groan when she tilted her head to look up at him, her mouth still stretched wide around his cock.

“ _Son of a bitch_ ,” he muttered, letting his head thunk back against the wall.

Clarke continued; if anything, increasing her suction and taking him deeper, because the farther gone he was, the more turned-on she got.

He looked down at her again, his face some combination of pleasure and pain that made her clit throb. When he spoke, his voice didn’t even sound like him, so low, so husky she wanted to drown in it. “ _Princess_ , you gotta stop if you don’t want…”

Clarke shook her head, humming around him, which made him close his eyes, his hands trembling a little against her head.

She knew what he was trying to say…he thought she’d want to stop before he came. The truth was, she wanted the exact opposite. She wasn’t sure if it was some kind of weird repayment…as in, she wanted to make him feel as good as he’d made her feel…or if there was something more to it…like how much she loved being the one to make him lose control.

Clarke _knew_ she couldn’t be that great at giving blowjobs, given that it was her first time. She _knew_ that Bellamy had to have received ones from women much more talented than her…and she also _knew_ that he was so far gone right now…so far out of control…so _fucking wrecked_ that his eyes were dazed and his legs were shaking, and he was staring down at her, watching her with something like awe on his face and simultaneously managing to look like he wanted to eat her alive.

She wanted to taste him…she _craved_ it.

She hummed again, fluttering her tongue against him while he was deep in her mouth…and he lost it, his come hitting the back of her throat as he curled over her, muttering a string of profanities, interspersed with things like ‘your mouth’ and ‘so fucking hot’ and ‘ _Clarke_.’

She stayed with him through his orgasm, swallowing everything he had to give her and then licking him gently as he started to soften in her mouth.

His hands moved to her arms, pulling her to her feet.

He just looked at her for a moment, his gaze still a little awe-struck and his face a little dazed, before he pulled her to him, kissing her deeply.

It wasn’t frantic, like Clarke had grown to expect from him. It was soft and slow, almost…sweet.

At first, Clarke thought he was chasing the taste of himself on her tongue, like she’d done to him, but when he brought his hand up, gently cupping her face as he caressed her tongue with his, Clarke got the distinct impression that he was trying to thank her.

Whatever the case was, she let herself get lost in it for a moment, the feeling of his mouth fused to hers and his body against hers doing nothing to stop the desire coursing through her.

It wasn’t until she felt his hand start to slide toward the button on her pants that she forced herself to break the kiss.

She grabbed his hand.

He gazed into her eyes, which were just a few inches from his, their faces still within kissing distance.

She shook her head minutely, just enough for him to catch.

His face flitted through multiple emotions in a short time: confusion, disappointment, desire, anger.

She couldn’t help but smirk a little, because yeah, having a mind-blowing orgasm and then not getting the chance to give your partner one in return kinda sucked, didn’t it?

Without warning, Bellamy moved the hand he had on her back down to her ass, pulling her forcefully against him.

Clarke shut her eyes, forcing herself not to moan out loud.

_Of course_ she wanted him to make her come. She wanted him to go down on her like he had last time…or, better yet, she wanted him to go down on her until he recovered, then she wanted him to fuck her like he meant it.

Just the thought of his cock…hard and heavy and _massive_ inside her…sent her into a tailspin, the moisture between her legs getting so ridiculous, she was pretty sure she’d have to change not only her underwear, but also her pants by the time this was over.

She forced herself to remember that she’d started this to prove a point…she wanted him just as badly as he wanted her, and if they were going to do this…whatever _this_ was…he was going to have to deal with her having her way with him too.

She leaned up, catching his lips with hers for a few short, wet, grasping kisses.

Just when he started to relax against her, she slid out of his reach. “Miller probably has a section of fence I could help with, right?” she asked cheekily, backing toward the hatch with a smirk on her face.

“Clarke!” Bellamy shouted, his hands immediately grabbing for his pants, trying to pull them and his underwear back up before she opened the door.

“Oh, and I’ll make sure to tell Raven she has my okay on the radios!” she said cheerfully.

Bellamy paused his frantic dressing, pausing just as he was tucking himself into his pants, looking at her a little warily, eyes narrowed. “You were never against it, were you?”

She shook her head, sporting what she was sure had to be an evil grin.

Bellamy snorted, shaking his head a little in exasperation as he finished zipping and buttoning his pants.

Clarke opened the hatch, glancing down and seeing no one in the immediate vicinity, so when she stepped on the ladder, she paused, looking back over at him. “Hey, Bellamy?” she said quietly.

He looked up.

“You should probably know…I’ve never done that before.”

She watched as his eyes narrowed in confusion, trying to ascertain her meaning, then his eyebrows rose, as if surprised, then a dozen other emotions flitted across his face.

She waited until a look of shock crossed his face, which she was pretty sure accompanied the realization that ‘the Princess wanted _me_ to be the first one in her mouth’ before she smirked at him again, eyebrow raised in a bit of a challenge as she quickly descended the ladder.

Clarke heard him start after her, but she got to the bottom before he could manage to get to her, grabbing her only change of clothes and heading toward the creek.

She was so aroused, practically vibrating with it, she contemplated getting herself off while she was washing off in the creek, but she wasn’t sure her fingers would be enough, not after she’d had his fingers and his tongue, and especially not after she’d seen his dick.  

She could probably get the job done, especially if she replayed the last ten minutes in her mind while doing it, but that wasn’t what she wanted, so she held off.

After all, they still had one base left in this odd game of rounding the sexual insult baseball diamond they were playing…and she knew it would be the most satisfying one yet.       


End file.
